


I Don't Want You

by thegoodreverend



Category: The Young Ones (TV 1982)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Drinking, Emotional Constipation, Internalized Homophobia, Kissing, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Non-Explicit Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-26 19:16:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12065322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegoodreverend/pseuds/thegoodreverend
Summary: Vyvyan absolutely does not fancy Rick. At all.





	I Don't Want You

He sucked in air, sweaty cheek slipping a little on Rick's shoulder. The body under him shuddered, making one of those utterly girly noises that Vyvyan _hated_. Rick made them when he was attempting to recover, still shaking from the strain of trying to meet Vyvyan's demands and handling the force of his own orgasm, half-way between a moan and a sigh.

At first Vyvyan had been surprised by how hard the annoying prick could fuck, but the more he got the harder he wanted it and finally they'd reached a point where Vyvyan could confidently call him a girl with little bravado and try and egg him on - the result was by the end Rick was flustered, exhausted, or suitably mad, and sometimes a mix thereof. Today it was mostly exhaustion, which always disappointed Vyvyan a little. Another girly little moan reached his ears and he shivered. He hated that sound. He hated that they made his chest tight and his face hot. He hated that feeling, and he hated how it got worse when Rick's nervous, delicate fingers stroked up his neck.

He pressed his studded forehead against Rick's shoulder and then smacked the side of his head, lifting off of him and sitting back. Rick gave a startled little shout and started complaining in his most petulant tone, and that terrible little tightness in Vyvyan's chest disappeared much to his relief. Rick kept right on complaining as Vyvyan dealt with the mess he'd made by wiping his hands on the blankets, pulled his pants back up over his hips, and stepped off the bed. His legs felt like rubber and for a moment he was startled, but he did his best to cover it up.

"I don't know why you have to be such a complete and utter bastard, Vyvyan," Rick snapped, still rubbing where Vyvyan had hit him. "That hurt, you know."

Vyvyan just sneered at him and started walking.

"Vyv, wait," Rick whined, hurrying to get up. Vyvan turned in time to catch him chuck the condom in the general vacinity of the bin, missing entirely, and hastily pull the blankets around his waist as if there was anything left that hadn't been seen.

"What."

"I was just, um. Wondering. You could-"

"I will hit you for real this time, Rick."

Rick pursed his lips and looked down at his hands, which had been fiddling nervously with the blanket. Vyvyan had to pretend he didn't catch the flash of hurt in his eyes. "Never mind."

Vyvyan made a noise of assent and turned again, slamming the door behind him. He wished the last thing Rick had done was whine. He hated the whining because it was off-putting, but conversely he hated whatever Rick had just done because it made him feel bad. He knew what he was going to ask, because the little prick had been getting more and more affectionate and he knew it'd be coming eventually. _You could stay_.

He flopped onto his own bed, boots still on, mentally beating the Vyvyan who wanted to go back in and crawl into Rick's bed without explanation into submission. Of course he could stay. He knew he could stay. He chose not to stay, because they were just fucking and encouraging Rick's blossoming infatuation would be stupid. Vyvyan beat on him and they screamed at each other, and sometimes Vyvyan had Rick fuck him as hard as possible and that was that. The end. When they graduated and went their separate ways, he wouldn't miss that at all. He'd get a bird and fuck her brains out every night, and unless Rick ended up in hospital he'd never have to think about the bastard ever again.

The Vyvyan he was mentally beating into submission called bullshit through a mouthful of blood, and he flopped onto his side to face the wall and dig his nails into his arm.

While he was already building a narrative that he didn't know how this started and that it was just fucking, he knew exactly how it started and he knew it wasn't really just fucking. Not for him, anyway - he suspected until recently Rick was just excited to be sticking his dick in anybody since nobody else had the poor taste to want the bastard. And Rick, being a girlie little swot, had a limited amount of time before he started developing feelings for the poor soul - in this case, Vyvyan - who deemed fit to pay him any attention at all. A bad situation all around, Vyvyan thought as he bit the inside of his cheek.

It had started three different times. The first was just after they'd moved to the new house, and it had been going about like it normally did. They'd gone in, yelled a little, Neil had headed straight for the kitchen and before he knew it Rick was being a little prick and he had no choice but to light the bastard's bed on fire for disagreeing with him. It hadn't quite stopped there, though, had it? Rick had looked at him and they'd had the same thought at the same time, and together had run to the hall and shouted down to Neil - as it was only fair - that his bedroom was on fire. And Vyvyan had looked at him, and Rick had had a disgusting mean look on his face and he'd thought the idiot could really be a cheeky little bastard before he realized that he was _fucking smiling at him_. He'd corrected the situation immediately, slamming Rick's head into the bannister and going off to claim a different bed.

The second time he'd been sitting next to the prick on the couch, arms touching as Mike squeezed in on Vyvyan's other side, and he happened to look at him. His mouth went dry, and it dawned on him that Rick was really very pretty, spots and dumb hair aside. Even with his stupid rhotacism and his uneven gaze, he was rather lovely to look at. Vyvyan's stomach flipped and the bottle he was holding shattered in his hand as he shot his glare back to the TV. Rick screamed at Vvyan that he was getting blood everywhere, and called him a fascist.

The third time was a fight. Rick had actually been mad enough to hit him back - clocked him rather painfully in the face, so Vyvyan had headbutted him and they grappled on the ground for a while until they were both exhausted and bloody. Rick gasped beside him, holding back angry tears, and Vyvyan was in heaven and he hated it. Three words bubbled in his throat like a foamy bile and he had to find something to do with his mouth to keep it down. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked back at Rick, who glared at him sullenly, and then flipped to his side and kissed him hard on the mouth. Rick tasted like blood. He didn't think too hard about it, and he got to his feet and limped out of the room, leaving the little shit on the ground looking shocked.

Rick hadn't said anything after he came downstairs. Mike laughed about thinking Vyvyan had killed him up there, and Rick had said "Ha ha, very funny Michael" before nervously rambling on about something Vyvyan didn't give the slightest fuck about. He read a comic and clenched his jaw, face burning as he found himself listening anyway.

After the first and second time Vyvyan had managed to beat all his feelings back down, and after that third time he couldn't manage it anymore - he supposed, in retrospect, kissing him hadn't helped. After that, any contact with Rick felt painful, whether it was a bump in the hallway or standard house violence. He didn't even want to look at him. Rick, on the other hand, had seemed more interested in Vyvyan than ever, asking his opinion in one-sided ramblings, positioning himself next to him whenever they assembled. Vyvyan figured he ought to be a little thankful that Rick had been the one to take things a step further, putting his hand on his thigh after Mike and Neil had gone upstairs before Bastard Squad was over. He'd been surprised at the boldness, even if the hand was shaking and Rick looked like he was about to puke.

"What's your hand doing on my leg, poof?"

"I don't know, Vyvyan, what was your mouth doing on my face?" Rick spat, digging his fingers in painfully without looking at him.

Vyvyan hadn't responded, and nothing moved past that point that night. Rick lost his nerve and timidly removed his hand, although Vyvyan never scooted over to give him more room and kept himself pressed up against him. He had to consider all the options and he couldn't consider anything when all he could think about was straddling Rick's lap and shoving his tongue down his throat.

Rick never questioned what evolved beyond his initial rhetorical outburst and sure, maybe they were both a little drunk usually, and that first time they really did anything serious Vyvyan hadn't really asked for permission, but it was okay. Vyvyan didn't want to identify his feelings or admit he was even thinking about it, but if he'd been a more introspective person he would have realized that they were maybe both a little too afraid of direct rejection to say anything. So two weeks later at one of their few house parties Vyvyan instigated a fight and chased Rick upstairs, and once they were in his room Vyvyan slammed him up against a wall and dropped the now empty bottle of vodka and screwed his eyes shut as he pressed his mouth up to Rick's.

Rick hadn't known what to do with his hands. Vyvyan didn't either but that didn't matter. Vyvyan didn't care, whereas Rick cared a lot, about everything. He tentatively touched Vyvyan's waist, so Vyvyan pulled back and smacked him. Rick looked shocked, so Vyvyan leaned forward and bit his lip before sucking it into his mouth, moving his hand to the back of his neck and clenching in a bruising grip. Rick got his unspoken point - that by god, there would be no emotional nerves because this was pure raw lust - and grabbed his ass hard. That first time they just kissed violently and grabbed at each other, and Vyvyan had ground his hips against Rick's until they were shaking. He was pretty sure Rick came in his pants. He was certainly whining about something - Vyvyan hadn't paid attention, as at that point his dick had been in his hand and he was coming over Rick's clothed thigh. Whatever it was it must not have actually bothered him that much because he'd kissed Vyvyan again while he was tucking himself away.

After that it just... happened. Often. The only thing Rick had ever said to him about it was that he hoped Vyvyan didn't expect him to let him put anything in his bottom, and Vyvyan had smacked him just for talking. It didn't matter, anyway. Vyvyan was more interested in getting fucked.

It wouldn't have really been a problem if it had stopped there, if that was it. They fucked and fought and sometimes both, and that was nice and simple. But it had never been simple, really, he'd just opted to ignore the complicated parts. Vyvyan wanted to puke thinking about it. He wanted to puke thinking about the way Rick's face looked when he got very smug, the way his leg bounced when he had it crossed at the knee, how red his cheeks got when he was screaming at him. He liked that last one especially, because it made his eyes seem so big and it reminded him of the blotchy red look he got all the way down from his face to his chest when he was really really enjoying whatever Vyvyan was doing in bed. The fact that he liked that dumb blush enough to think about other things he particularly liked made him want to puke, too.

Christ, maybe he was going to be ill. Vyvyan stumbled out of his room and bolted to the toilet, leaning over the filthy bowl.

He _fancied_ Rick. He really, really fancied Rick. A lot.

Lots of thoughts came crashing down on him all at once and he didn't particularly appreciate them at all. Did Rick fancy him? Did this mean that _he_ was gay? What if Rick didn't fancy him, what if Rick just wanted to get off and it didn't matter who it was with? What if he wanted to fall asleep next to him? What if Rick said no to that?

Vyvyan retched into the bowl, bracing himself on the wall and the floor, shaking violently. He coughed and spat, and nearly jumped when he heard Rick's voice behind him.

"You better not have gotten _me_ sick or there'll be hell to pay, young man!"

Shaking, Vyvyan got up to his feet and shoved past him. "Outta my way, poof."

Rick scoffed, and Vyvyan knew what was coming before he said it. He knew that the words about to come out of that smug mouth were about his taking Rick's stupid cock, because Rick had lost ground in the bedroom by offering to let him stay and he had to make up for it, and so before he had a chance to say them Vyvyan punched him. Rick dropped to the floor, and Vyvyan staggered back to his room and slammed the door.

It had to stop - it was getting to be too much and Vyvyan didn't think he could handle the implications. Rick was an annoying piece of shit and he absolutely didn't fancy him at all so he'd never need to find out how Rick felt about him because it didn't matter. He didn't need to look back at all those other boys he'd been confusingly emotionally intimate with or what that meant. Vyvyan could stop, and it would be fine, because he didn't fancy Rick. He flopped onto his bed again and stared at the ceiling, and repeated that to himself. He didn't fancy Rick at all. He didn't wonder if Rick was okay, hearing him drag himself from the bathroom floor and back to his room.

 

* * *

 

Vyvyan was the first person Rick had kissed. This wouldn't have surprised anyone, although Rick would have denied it unconvincingly, which also wouldn't have surprised anyone.

At first he had just been pleased he was getting any attention, and then he had been _especially_ pleased that it had been from Vyvyan. To say he'd had a crush might have gone too far. He hadn't really considered Vyvyan romantically before, but he was enamored with him. He wanted his attention. Despite the fact that he was a terrible fascist _bastard_ , Vyvyan was a lot of what Rick wanted to be. Vyvyan did what he wanted, when he wanted, for nobody but himself. Vyvyan was a force of nature. Rick felt like he was still trying to convince people he was really who he said he was, including himself, and Vyvyan just was. Rick wanted whatever part of that he could get. He wanted the validation that came with being liked by somebody like that.

He wanted whatever action he could get too, though. The fact that Vyvyan wanted to get fucked, and the fact that he wanted to get fucked hard and fast and with lots of grabbing and painful kisses, appealed to Rick. He'd thought a few times about asking Vyvyan to fuck him, but didn't trust him not to do something incredibly painful so always backed out just before asking. He'd never really considered that as an option before, though. He'd never felt particularly strongly about men, but on the other hand he hadn't felt particularly strongly about women either, and he'd known almost nothing about how sex actually worked. He got excited, sure, but it was a confused kind of excitement at things he knew logically weren't even sexually explicit but were still risque enough to intrigue him. He didn't really understand the whole thing at all, even after fucking Vyvyan.

He understood that he liked the way Vyvyan grabbed him, though, and he liked the feeling of Vyvyan's stubble on his cheek, and he liked being with him. He liked the way Vyvyan braced himself on his headboard, struggling to stay in place as Rick fucked him, with one leg slung over his shoulder and the other awkwardly hanging in the air. He liked watching Vyvyan's abdomen flex as he rode him, and the look of concentration on his face the closer he got to coming. He liked attention, and he really liked it from Vyvyan.

The punch in the hallway came as a surprise, but so did a lot of Vyvyan's attacks. The real surprise was that after that, Vyvyan stopped chasing him. Vyvyan didn't even sit next to him on the couch. Their interaction started at Vyvyan screeching at Rick to shut up, at winding him up, and then it stopped there too. He cut off their physical interaction entirely, and it took very little time for Rick to realize that the only reason he was still talking to him was so Mike and Neil wouldn't ask any questions.

It left Rick feeling shell-shocked. And lonely. And hurt.

He couldn't think of anything he'd done to put an end to everything. Had it been what he'd said in the bedroom? He hadn't even finished that thought, so he didn't see why it would matter. He supposed it was just a symptom of Vyvyan being such an ass, but he couldn't stop himself from wondering if it was actually just him. Maybe Vyvyan had realized he was a pathetic little nobody.

On an average day, he didn't have the confidence to ask Vyvyan about it. He suspected Vyvyan might tear his head off. Or worse, ignore him. He hated being ignored. At least he was still getting some attention. But if "some attention" left him feeling like he was about to cry, was it any good?

He thought about that a lot, and tension no amount of poetry could ease built inside him until it became a not-so-average day. He flipped through pages of a sociology textbook blindly, thinking about his dead parents and the fact that the only people he had in the whole world were in this house, and they didn't even particularly like him. Or they said they didn't. Either way, he was largely alone, and prior to a few weeks ago Vyvyan had been his only real companion and he'd just taken that away without a second thought. The selfish bastard.

Rick slammed the book shut and dropped it on the bed. The Peoples' Poet wouldn't stand for this. He stood and smoothed his hands over his suit jacket, pacing nervously before committing to what he had in mind. Once he'd gathered the courage, he burst through his door and stomped across the hall, throwing open Vyvyan's and slamming it closed behind him without knocking or anything!

He'd been prepared to be hit, but he wasn't. Nothing came. He looked around for real and saw Vyvyan sitting on his bed looking bewildered, empty bottle of vodka in his hand. Totally and utterly rat-arsed. All he did was blink at Rick, until he stood in silence long enough that Vyvyan had to offer a forceful gesticulation that implied a shocked _what_.

"I have some things to say to you, Vyvyan, and I don't think you're going to like them very much but that's just tough!" Rick said, willing his voice to stop being so damn shrill. His voice betrayed nerves he didn't even know he had. Unfair.

"Well say them then," Vyvyan slurred.

"Don't tell me what to do. I'll say them when I feel like it." Vyvyan blinked at him and Rick flushed. He said the only words he could think of after a long pause. "You are such a bastard."

"Is that it, then?"

"No, that is not it! Well, I mean - I did mean to tell you that, yes, but - but it's not because-"

"Just spit it out!"

"For _Cliff's sake_ , Vyvyan, shut up! Shut up! You stop _everything_ without asking me or telling me why and now you won't even let me say what I want to say, shut _up_! You ruin everything!"

"Just tell me what you want to say instead of screaming like a girl!"

While Rick had been shouting, Vyvyan had stood, dropping the empty bottle on the ground, and staggered over. Now they stood almost nose to nose, and Rick could smell how much he'd been drinking. He'd also realized he didn't have a plan. When he'd burst through the door he'd only had a lot of feelings, and those weren't getting him very far at all. So he did the only thing he could think of.

He lunged and wrapped his hands around Vyvyan's throat. Even drunk, Vvyan was better at fighting than he was - he punched Rick right in the stomach and again in the face when he let go and stumbled back. Undeterred, Rick lept at Vyvyan and tackled him back onto the bed, pinning his arms down with his knees and smacking him. The two or so inches he had on Vyvyan, combined with the other man's inebriation, gave him the upper hand _finally_. Normally he'd be thrown off in a matter of seconds, but Vyvyan was simply too disoriented. Rick slapped him hard several more times before he realized he was crying and cursing at him.

"You left me alone, you bastard! First my parents and now you, and I don't get an explanation for any of it! I don't even know what I did, I don't know why you stopped and it's not bloody fair! You were the only one I had left."

His voice caught in his throat and he devolved into sobs he couldn't stop. He felt Vyvyan's arms struggling under his knees and so he let them go, expecting to be pushed off.

"I don't care," he cried, slumping further forward, "Beat me up, kill me, I don't care. Anything is better than this."

 

* * *

 

Sober Vyvyan (more appropriately, Relatively Sober Vyvyan) had not expected Rick to get the guts to confront him, and had even been certain enough that Rick did not have any personal investment in him that he'd convinced Emotional Vyvyan, who was closely related to Drunk Vyvyan, to just give up before he got everybody hurt. Sober Vyvyan's plan was to cold-shoulder Rick out of the picture, graduate, and move on with his life, and all he had to do was not indulge Rick in the slightest. It was a good plan, but it had been a little hard to enact as it was impossible to shut Emotional Vyvyan up completely without the help of a huge quantity of alcohol, so he developed a "ignore Rick and drink until I feel nothing" phase of the plan.

The unexpected, although frankly obvious, flaw to that plan was that while Sober Vyvyan was great at sticking to plans, Drunk Vyvyan just fucked everything up. Drunk Vyvyan didn't like the Ignore Rick plan, and he didn't care to remember it. Drunk Vyvyan figured the best plan was to actually just beat Rick to a bloody pulp, and he'd been considering stomping over there when the little prick had come to him first.

After a confusing amount of screaming and a bewildering physical exchange, Drunk Vyvyan found himself pinned on the bed under a Rick who was sobbing disgustingly and shaking, and Drunk Vyvyan forgot his own plan and just felt _bad._

He managed to get his arms out from under Rick, and prop himself up on his elbows while Rick bemoaned his current lot in life, and watched his face contort with such genuine anguish that it made his eyes water a little.

Apparently realizing Vyvyan wasn't going to kill him, Rick sniffed and looked down at him. Vyvyan couldn't hold his look amd instead focused on his knee, absently thumbing a seam in his pant-leg.

"What did I do?"

He heard Rick's trembling lip - he didn't even need to look up, it was all over his voice. Stupid prat. Vyvyan shrugged a little, and said, "Nothing."

He felt heavy tears hit his stomach through his shirt, dripping off Rick's chin, and just like he knew what Rick's face was doing he knew what question was coming next. He played more intently with the seam on Rick's trousers.

"Stop crying, you girl. You didn't do anything. I, ehm. I'm having a _problem_ , and I need to figure out what things... mean." He offered the last word lamely. About halfway through the word "crying" Vyvyan realized he had no plan and that he'd been on the verge of offering up his deepest fears, which was simply unacceptable.

He realized that he didn't really enjoy making Rick cry like this, too. And to fix it there were a number of words that had to be said next, and Vyvyan didn't know how to say any of them. He watched Rick's face, hoping he'd just _understand_ , and was treated with the coldest look he'd ever seen. His eyes looked glassy through all the tears, red-rimmed and wide, but his brow was knit and his mouth was tense.

"You're scared," he said quietly, and Vyvyan felt his face flush red.

"I am not, poof," he growled.

It was too much. There was too much going on. He knew he'd betrayed himself by getting defensive and Rick had gotten his little claws in and there was no backing out. The urge to punch Rick in the face and chuck him bodily out of the room came back, and Sober Vyvyan, Drunk Vyvyan, and Emotional Vyvyan were all momentarily on the same page. Rick had a look on his face that was somewhere stuck between spite, victory, and excitement, and his eyes flitted to Vyvyan's clenched fists before he leaned forward.

"Hit me if you want, Vyvyan, but I _know you_ . I think we both know that _you're_ the poof and you fancy me, and you're scared. Is that it?"

Vyvyan clenched his jaw and felt his eyes watering. Rick's face was too close to his, and he felt his breath when he spoke.

"I like you rather a lot when you're not terrorizing me like the fascist you are, so you're lucky I don't mind that you're a prick. I don't even mind that you're a big girl just like me, funnily enough."

He squeezed his eyes shut, unclenched his fists, and put his hands on Rick's waist. He flinched a little, and Vyvyan, who had previously been feeling rather out of control, took at least a little solace in the fact that Rick was actually just as nervous as he was. Or at least still afraid of getting hit, even if he was willing to take it now. At least there was that. Rick kissed just below his left eye and let out an awkward, shaky breath.

"You left me alone because you were scared."

Vyvyan nodded. A short, tight nod, but a nod.

"Don't do that again."

He might have apologized. He couldn't tell anymore. Even with his eyes closed the room felt like it was spinning. Everything was too much.

Without warning, he shoved Rick off him and to his side on the mattress, and struggled to right himself. Rick watched with a look that was half confusion, half nerves as Vyvyan rotated awkwardly on the mattress and crammed himself in the corner nearest the wall before tugging violently at Rick's shirt.

"What are you doing?"

"Shut up and come here."

Cautiously, Rick lifted his legs up onto the bed and laid down beside him. Vyvyan watched him for a few seconds to make sure he understood what was happening, and then closed his eyes so he didn't have to watch Rick turn to his side and stare at him. He felt it anyway, and a few seconds later he felt Rick's fingers on his face.

"You smell like paint thinner," he whispered, and moved his fingers a little more confidently down Vyvyan's jaw.

"Shut up, poof," Vyvyan grumbled and snatched his hand, pulling it away from his face. That was too much, too. He wasn't ready for that.

"What are you doing, Vyvyan?"

"Shut _up_. I'm trying to sleep."

Rick didn't say anything else. It wasn't until he started stroking his thumb that Vyvyan realized he'd never let go of his hand, and that maybe Rick had been questioning that, but it didn't matter. He really was tired. And extremely drunk. In order to fit comfortably on the bed, eyes still closed, he shoved at Rick's shoulder so he had to lie flat, and then lay half on top of him. He heard his heart beating through his shoulder, and felt his breath on his forehead. One delicate hand on his arm, the other in his ruined hair, and in his half-sleep Vyvyan thought this was actually very nice. He registered, as he finally drifted off, that Rick's hand had moved to his back and he was stroking him.

Rick had never had anybody fall asleep on him like that. The closest was when Vyvyan collapsed on him after coming, but even that was different. He was tired and still a little surprised, but this was amazingly intimate. This was feeling Vyvyan's heart pounding against his chest and pressing his lips to his brow. This was Vyvyan with no muscle tension, quiet and heavy and vulnerable. The part of Rick that wasn't raw and exhausted from the emotional outburst, the part that wasn't elated that Vyvyan did actually want him and that he'd had a real honest sort-of-conversation with him, was terrified. Obviously, a big wall had been broken down and he had no idea what Vyvyan would act like without that wall. Maybe he'd go back to hating him tomorrow, overcompensate for the painful reveal that'd just happened. Rick put his hand firmly on Vyvyan's lower back, and tried not to think about it.

In the morning (or the afternoon), Sober Vyvyan woke up as the result of two things. The first, that his head was pounding. The second, was that he was being kissed. The light blinded him a little and the world was already fuzzy without his specs, and it took him a while to realize where he was.

Sober Vyvyan's willpower wasn't that much better than Drunk Vyvyan's, really.

He kissed Rick back.

Feelings bubbled up in his chest and threatened to spew. He'd missed the fucking idiot

 


End file.
